


Anniversary

by WriteOnMyWay



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 13:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15535578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteOnMyWay/pseuds/WriteOnMyWay
Summary: Fanfic prompt #2 Hickey’s tropical vacation in the Sandwich Islands





	Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spookywriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookywriter/gifts).



> This was written for the lovely spookywriter for The Terror Gift Exchange.

“Ow.”

“Shut up.”

“Where is your compassion? I’m in  _pain_! It is your duty as my boyfriend to make me feel better.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing. Sweet words don’t heal sunburns. Aloe vera does.”

Hickey sniffled. John was right –  _of course_  he was – but  _still_. In Hickey’s book, making a sunburnt boyfriend – a  _lover_ , as he often liked to put it because it never failed to make John blush (sometimes indignantly, but that’s beside the point) – feel better included fussing over him, offering him his favorite iced tea with raspberry flavor and then staying by his side, reading the best parts of the group chat aloud and then holding the phone so that the helpless victim of the Sun could type out his own response. John had so far only scolded him for being a reckless fool (though what was he supposed to do? bring an alarm clock to the beach? ask strangers to make sure he doesn’t fall asleep?). And had slathered his back (which was currently as red as the lobsters served in a restaurant nearby) with aloe vera gel. And was now dressing up to go to the nearest drugstore to stock up on the products designed to help skin heal.

“Do you want anything?”

“No.”

“Okay. I’ll be back in about twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

As soon as John locked the door Hickey tried to get more comfortable, groaning into the pillow upon realizing that this was impossible. Everything hurt.  _Everything_ , not just his back or head. He was  _cursed_ , he could swear he was. Nothing ever went well when Cornelius Hickey was concerned. Whenever he planned or wanted something, it inevitably got completely fucked up. Take this trip, for instance. He’d dreamed of visiting Hawaii ever since he saw those pictures in a magazine when he was a kid.  _Oahu_  and _Maui_ … In those short words he could hear the singing of the vast sapphire ocean, the chirping of brightly colored tropical birds, the soothing rustling of palm leaves. He used to repeat them, over and over, like a mantra, to keep himself going through shitty jobs, heartbreaks and one disaster after another. And it worked, because a little more than a year ago he got a job at  _Erebus Inc._  and met John Irving. And though it wasn’t smooth sailing in the beginning, Hickey was happy, completely and unabashedly  _happy_  for what was probably the first time in his life. And this trip to Oahu –  _Oahu_! – was supposed to be the celebration of their first anniversary. And  _naturally_  he had to ruin it. The upcoming trip got him so worked up that he could barely sleep for several days straight, so when he finally found himself on a beach he quickly passed out from the combination of exhaustion, heat and a cocktail that was  _way_  stronger than it looked. He couldn’t have slept for too long but it was enough to get his skin burnt almost to a crisp. He was so embarrassed and in so much pain that he could not keep his mouth shut and was snapping at the horrified John (who’d gone exploring the neighborhood earlier on) the whole time he was tending to his back. So  _surely_  their first anniversary will be their last. What did that stupid picture in his morning newsfeed say? “Disappointed but not surprised”? Yeah, that’s it. He’ll have it engraved on his tombstone, which he’ll probably need very soon.

The lock clicked again.

“I’m back. How are you doing?”

Hickey shrugged his shoulders as best he could.

“I’m fine.”

“Soon you’ll be better. The pharmacist recommended some products and I, uh, bought them all. And, uh, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Hickey sat up, ignoring the feeling of his back catching fire. “What on earth for?”

John rubbed his nose in a futile attempt to hide the blush on his cheeks.

“I should’ve gone with you. I mean, this,” a vague gesture covering the room and the best part of the island, “this is all for  _us_ , isn’t it? We should be doing things together. As a couple. But I… Actually, this is kind of stupid, doesn’t matter. Look, I got this spray, the pharmacist said…”

“But I  _love_  it when you’re being stupid,” Hickey was grinning, feeling a terrible weight lift off his shoulders and dissipate into the cool air. “Come on, what did you wanna say? What were you doing? Was it something nice? Should I be jealous?”

“I’ll have you know that this isn’t even remotely as funny as you think it is.” Several months prior this joke would’ve turned John into a furiously flushing, stuttering mess. Now he was able to keep a relatively straight face, complete with his eyebrows raised in a  _You-already-said-that-shit-before-and-I’m-still-not-impressed_  way.

“Sorry. So what were you doing?”

John took a deep, slightly frustrated breath.

“I was looking for a nice café or a coffee-shop for us to go to in the evening. You know, something small, that wouldn’t be too crowded. You said you liked such places, so I figured I’d go ahead and find one in advance. Could’ve spared myself the trouble, though, as it turns out.”

“I’m gonna try and hug you now, but  _please_  restrain yourself and don’t hug me back or I’ll kick you.  _Damn it, John, watch your fucking beard!_ ”

“Stop swearing right in my ear! And sorry. And take this thing while it’s still cold.”

“What is it?”

“Raspberry tea. Now wait, the phone’s been buzzing non-stop, I have…  _Wow_. I have 247 unread messages. And almost half of them are from Edward.”

“What’s going on? Whoa, that’s one giant dog. Is that his?”

“No, he’s allergic, it’s… yeah, it’s Crozier’s. Oh, it’s a  _he_  and apparently his name is Neptune.”

“Wait, is that Hodgson in the tree? How did he get up there and how is that branch not breaking?”

“I don’t know because your head is blocking the screen. Aren’t you supposed to be lying down?”

“If I lie down, I might spill this tea all over the bed and you’ll be  _fuming_. Besides, there’s no better medicine than a bit of drama you’re not involved in. Show me that dog again!”


End file.
